


To the Victor Goes the Spoils

by oiyukis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Pre-timeskip and Post-timeskip, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oiyukis/pseuds/oiyukis
Summary: For a moment Claude wondered if Dimitri actually had forgotten. It had been a while since they’d spoken about it, and Dimitri’s class was always involved in some crazy mission or another with the mysterious mercenary-turned-professor. He remembered it clearly though. Two moons back, barefoot in Claude’s room as they poured over notes from a joint lecture and traded warm, lazy kisses. Claude had proposed that if he won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion he’d make Dimitri spill some of his secrets. When Dimitri had scoffed -- not unkindly -- and asked what Claude would give him if he was the winner, Claude had just grinned and said, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”





	1. Gronder Field; 1180

**Author's Note:**

> here it is folks, my first published fic in a year.  
i've been dragged down to fire emblem hell just as i was dusting off the remnants of my sweet summer prince chrom  
i hope you're happy

“Dimitri! Got a minute?” 

Dimitri, who was bringing up the rear of his housemates, paused as Claude called out to him. Claude pretended not to notice as Dedue and Ingrid shot twin looks of concern Dimitri’s way, but he was glad to see Dimitri wave them off with the slightest tilt of his head. Dimitri waited patiently as Claude crossed the distance between them at a slight jog, slowing to a stop when they were only a few feet apart. 

“Hello, Claude,” Dimitri said pleasantly. He seemed livelier than he had that morning during the traditional meeting with the professors to review the rules of the battle. He looked put-together already despite Claude himself feeling like a gross, sweaty mess, but such seemed to be the way Dimitri was made. Claude had watched him knock opponents around on the training grounds without breaking a sweat. It was unfair, but not what Claude wanted to dwell on right now. 

It looked like Dimitri had passed off his lance to someone -- maybe the soldiers loading up the artillery cart -- because his hands were free and folded behind his back. Claude himself had kept his bow slung over his shoulder, though he’d used the last of his arrows during the battle. He tucked one of his feet behind the other, leaning back to observe Dimitri on uneven ground. “Blue Lions win again, huh?”

To Claude’s surprise, Dimitri laughed. “Everyone fought well.”

Claude barked a laugh in response. “Even me?” 

“Of course.” Dimitri moved his head so his bangs fell away from his eyes. “You had a sound strategy. While the Black Eagles engaged us you crossed the battlefield uninhibited. If you had managed to hold the central tower any longer you may have outmatched us.” 

“Such praise!” Claude grinned and held a hand to his heart. 

Dimitri sighed, shooting Claude a stern frown. 

“Still, I think congratulations are in order.” Claude threw his arm around Dimitri’s neck, a feat made easier by his heeled boots, and tried to pull the prince closer. He was under no illusion that Dimitri only moved with him because he wanted to. Claude doubted he’d ever be strong enough to really jostle Dimitri around if the prince himself didn’t allow it. 

“Uh--. Yes, I suppose. I think everyone will be looking forward to the feast.” 

“Right. The feast.” Claude hiked a brow, a look he knew made him look mischievous. “What about you?”

Dimitri’s tone was a murky mix of confusion and exasperation. “I also enjoy feasts.” 

“Sure, sure. But that’s not what I mean.” Claude dropped his voice even though they were in no danger of being overheard. Dimitri’s classmates were naught but blurs on the horizon and they made up the final leg of the marching party that was headed back to the monastery. Only a few soldiers remained to clear up the field and they paid no mind to the two house leaders as they worked. “We made a bet, remember? Winner takes all?” 

Dimitri had no response to that. He stared at Claude wordlessly, waiting.

For a moment Claude wondered if Dimitri actually had forgotten. It had been a while since they’d spoken about it, and Dimitri’s class was always involved in some crazy mission or another with the mysterious mercenary-turned-professor. He remembered it clearly though. Two moons back, barefoot in Claude’s room as they poured over notes from a joint lecture and traded warm, lazy kisses. Claude had proposed that if he won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion he’d make Dimitri spill some of his secrets. When Dimitri had scoffed -- not unkindly -- and asked what Claude would give him if he was the winner, Claude had just grinned and said, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” 

Now, two moons and several heated study dates later, Claude had thought of something he was sure Dimitri would enjoy. 

“You won,” Claude said. “So you get the reward.” 

“I don’t consider your secrets a reward, Claude.”

“I know. I’m not suggesting that.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I think you should take me into the woods and ravish me.” 

Predictably, Dimitri jolted back from Claude like he’d been stung, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “Claude!” 

“What?” 

“That’s--! It’s--!” Dimitri looked around as if checking to make sure they weren’t making a spectacle of themselves. He stepped back into Claude’s space, lowering his voice as well. “That is completely inappropriate! Not to mention unsafe! We’re in the middle of a field. Where would we even--?”

Claude jerked a thumb in the direction of the treeline at the far end of the field.

Dimitri’s voice faltered, but not for long. “We’re outside. And we haven’t even--. We’ve never--.” 

“So,” Claude started slowly, looking up at Dimitri through his lashes the same way he did before coaxing him away from his studies and into far more enjoyable activities, “you’re not interested, then?” 

Dimitri’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He looked away, squinting toward the sun. In a voice so quiet it was almost lost on the wind, Claude heard Dimitri say, “...I didn’t say that.” 

Warmth spread through Claude’s chest as he grinned. He took Dimitri’s hand boldly, squeezing even though he didn’t think Dimitri would be able to feel it through his armored gauntlets. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

\- 

Dimitri was unsurprisingly quiet as Claude led them off the path and toward the nearest cluster of trees. Claude kept a light grip on Dimitri’s now-bare hand as they walked, just a little worried that he might turn and flee if given the chance. Though Wyvern Moon had days where a sharp chill lingered in the air, Dimitri’s hand was even colder. It wasn’t a bother, though it did make Claude’s mind spin through the possibilities of what he could do to warm Dimitri up. He rerouted his thoughts to safer observances … for now. 

It was easy to find a secluded spot within the trees, but Claude led them deeper for propriety’s sake. It wouldn’t do to have one of Dimitri’s cubs stumble across them if they came looking for him. He didn’t think Dimitri would ever live that down, and he had plans to do this many more times in the future if the prince was amiable. 

Finally, Claude brought them to a stop. They weren’t in a clearing or near a particularly distinct tree -- it was as anonymous a spot as he could hope for. Claude turned around to face Dimitri, ready to pull him close, and stopped. He’d expected Dimitri to be staring bashfully at the ground but the prince met his stare head-on, his eyes dark with something Claude recognized as desire. 

Before Claude could recover from the surprise Dimitri stepped forward and kissed him. Mm. Claude had been planning to tease the prince a bit before they really began but if Dimitri wanted to jump right in he wasn’t going to complain. He moved his head to a better angle and opened his mouth. He was rewarded almost instantly by Dimitri boldly deepening the kiss with his tongue. He’d thought Dimitri would be shy about this, but maybe it was just the flirting that threw the prince off his game. A young man of action, then. 

Claude hummed pleasantly and drew Dimitri closer by snagging his fingers on the cross-body strap that held his sword to his side. Claude couldn’t remember a time he’d ever seen Dimitri actually use it but he was glad to have the leverage. His other hand went to Dimitri’s waist, gripping somewhat uselessly against the armor there. He moved his hand down a bit to where the armor met the fabric of his uniform’s jacket and tried to sneak his fingers beneath it. 

Dimitri pulled back with a huff through his nose and confusion in his eyes. He glanced down, finding Claude’s hand at his side. Damn. Caught, then. Ah, well. Claude could redirect. There would be time to get Dimitri out of his armor soon enough. 

For now, Claude pulled Dimitri back in for another kiss. “I’d like to reward you now,” he said, lips brushing against Dimitri’s as he spoke. 

Dimitri laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh Claude was familiar with. Unlike Dimitri’s usual -- short-lasting, even-toned, princely-- this one was high-pitched and breathless. Excited? Nervous? Both? Claude wasn’t sure. He liked it, though. He already wanted to hear it again. Finally, Dimitri said, “Ah, is this not what you meant already?” 

“Sure,” Claude said easily. “This is fine if that’s what you want. But I was thinking of something better.” 

“Better?” As if Dimitri couldn’t imagine what that might be. 

“Yeah.” Claude pressed his nose to the arch of Dimitri’s cheekbone so that he could speak into his ear. “I thought I could suck you off--”

“Claude!” 

Claude was undeterred. “Are you opposed?” 

“I…” Dimitri sounded faint.

“It’s fine if you are, but … well, what’s the phrase? To the victor goes the spoils?” Claude grinned. “I kind of want to spoil you,  _ your highness _ .” 

It was clear from Dimitri’s lack of reaction to the title that his mind was occupied. He shuddered in Claude’s arms, breath coming out against Claude’s neck in a hot puff. Claude didn’t push, waiting for Dimitri to work through his thoughts and feelings on his own. They’d been meeting for “study” dates for practically a half-year now, but it had taken them almost four moons to progress from hand-holding to kissing. Claude wasn’t sure if this would be too fast a jump for Dimitri to adjust to. 

Finally, after what felt like ages, Dimitri dropped his nose to the junction of Claude’s neck and exhaled. “Yes,” he said quietly. 

Claude wasted no time in following through. He stepped away to shimmy out of the outer layer of his uniform, not missing the way Dimitri’s eyes went wide, and turned the jacket inside-out. He dropped it unceremoniously on the ground and sunk down onto it, getting comfortable on his knees. 

He’d never really looked at Dimitri from this angle, but now that he was down here he wondered how he was going to proceed. Dimitri’s boots were knee-high and the parts of his uniform that served as armor went lower than a traditional shirt -- like the yellow undershirt that Claude wore -- would fall. He supposed he’d never figure out just by looking, so Claude slipped his hands beneath Dimitri’s jacket in search of the waist of his pants. He felt Dimitri tense up beneath him and he stopped, glancing up at the prince. Dimitri wasn’t looking at him … maybe the ground next to him? Either way, he didn’t tell Claude to stop, and he seemed to be relaxing. Claude wondered if he should go slower. Maybe Dimitri was easily spooked? 

Soon, Claude’s fingers found the laces that held Dimitri’s pants closed. He worked at the knot quickly, eventually drawing the laces out so that he could see them and push them out of his way. Dimitri wasn’t unaffected by this -- he’d held himself stiffly at first, but now Claude could tell the tension was another sort entirely, his breathing picking up as Claude managed to shift his clothing around enough to draw his growing erection out into the open. 

And--.  _ Wow _ . 

Breathlessly, Dimitri asked, “What?” 

Oh. Claude hadn’t realized he’d said that aloud. “I mean …” He exchanged pointed looks between Dimitri’s arousal and eyes. 

A flush crept across Dimitri’s cheeks. “What? Is--. Is something wrong?” 

“No! You’re just … pretty.” 

Dimitri stared down at him. 

“And big,” Claude added. It wasn’t to bolster Dimitri’s ego -- it was the truth. He’d suspected in his daydreams and fantasies that the prince might be packing, but to have it confirmed was satisfying indeed. He  _ was  _ pretty, though. Dimitri’s hands were rough but his cock was smooth and pale, except for where it had grown red and shiny at the head. Claude wasn’t overly confident in his oral skills, but he thought that if he didn’t get his mouth on Dimitri in the next minute he might actually die. 

Or, you know, something less dramatic, but still. 

Claude didn’t waste any more time. He used one hand to hold Dimitri’s cock in place and the other to brace himself on the prince’s thighs. He kissed the tip first, then licked his lips to catch the hint of salt left behind by Dimitri’s eagerness. Pleased with himself, Claude leaned forward so he could take the head of Dimitri’s cock in his mouth. 

If Dimitri had been stiff before it was like a pike went through him now, seizing him up and punching the air from his lungs. “ _ Claude _ ,” he said, but it trailed off in the closest thing to a moan Claude had heard from him. That was promising. Claude was determined to hear that again, except breathier, and maybe pleadingly. Dimitri kept his hands at his sides but his fingers flexed spastically as if searching for somewhere to go. Claude filed that information away and leaned forward again, taking more into his mouth and letting his eyes drift closed. 

Claude fell into a rhythm easily. He may not have done this before but he was  _ extremely  _ well-read. He’d discovered his share of erotic literature and how-to manuals over the years in both Duke Riegan’s estate and his father’s palace back home. He remembered the important bits -- mind your teeth, don’t forget to breathe -- but he followed instinct for the rest. Or, if not instinct, sheer desire. 

He used his hand to caress and squeeze what he couldn’t fit in his mouth, but the rest was all hollowed cheeks and clever tricks with his tongue. The hand he’d put on Dimitri’s thigh was digging into the fabric without his say-so but Claude didn’t have the presence of mind to loosen his grip. What Claude hadn’t read in the books were the  _ sounds _ . He didn’t think chirping birds and rustling leaves were the typical backdrop of a secret dalliance, but the soft groans coming from Dimitri and the wet noises that slowed Claude’s mind to a haze were sounds he liked very much. 

Claude wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it when he felt the first ghost of a touch on his head. It was there and gone in a moment, almost fast enough for him to have imagined it until it happened again shortly after. And again. And then again. 

Though he didn’t want to, Claude pulled himself off of Dimitri with a wet pop. He licked his lips, chasing the uniquely bitter taste, and looked up. Whatever shyness Dimitri had felt before had worn off. He stared down at Claude with wide eyes that were more black than blue. He was flushed from his cheeks down to his neck, a sheen of perspiration glinting across his skin as the sunlight caught his subtle shifting. Claude recognized this look on him … or a version of it at least. This was what Dimitri looked like after a good fight. It was what he’d looked like as the announcement that his house had won the battle had rushed over the field. 

A string of Almyran curses raced through Claude’s head. It was utterly unfair for Dimitri to look so attractive when his cock was out and in Claude’s hand. The next time he watched Dimitri thrash someone on the training grounds all Claude would be able to think about would be the view from his knees. 

“What … why … ?” Dimitri didn’t seem to be capable of formulating a full question, but Claude got the gist. Why did you stop? 

He ran a hand through his hair, noting the way Dimitri tracked the movement. “You can touch me, you know.” 

Dimitri’s swallow was almost audible. “...Where?” he asked. 

Claude had to bite his lip at Dimitri’s tone. Gods, did he even know how he sounded? “Put your hands in my hair,” he said. 

Dimitri might have hesitated normally. He’d expressed concern before over being too physical with Claude on behalf of his brute strength (and then it had only been about innocent things, like throwing an arm around his shoulders). That didn’t seem to be a worry of his at the moment because he slid his hands through Claude’s hair immediately, gripping with enough strength to have an anchor but not hard enough to hurt. 

Claude brought his attention back to Dimitri’s cock; it was slick from Claude’s mouth and Dimitri’s own precum and ruddier than it had been before. Claude felt a little pang of pride at that. He doubted his technique was perfect, but he was clearly good enough to keep Dimitri’s attention. He leaned forward again, sliding easily as far down as he could manage. 

He picked up where he’d left off, sucking and tonguing along Dimitri’s cock as his hand worked the rest. He was too focused to notice Dimitri’s fingers tightening and untightening in his hair as he worked until a particularly clever swipe of tongue against the sensitive underside of Dimitri’s cock spurred a full-body shudder that ended with his hands pulling tight in Claude’s hair. If Dimitri noticed and attempted an apology it was lost in the moan Claude let out at the pleasure-pain feeling racing across his scalp. Dimitri shuddered at that too, a groan of his own slipping between his panting breaths. 

_ Do that again _ . But Claude didn’t want to pull off Dimitri to say so. He dropped his hand away instead, shuffling forward and settling close enough to Dimitri that his boots were flush with Claude’s knees. With both hands on Dimitri’s thighs, Claude slid a bit further down Dimitri's length, the tip of which was coming dangerously close to brushing the back of his throat. 

Luckily, it seemed Dimitri had a breaking point. He tightened his fingers in Claude’s hair again, pulling until Claude moaned. His thighs flexed beneath Claude’s fingers as his hips rocked forward the slightest bit. Claude felt Dimitri in his throat before he pulled away again. He squeezed the skin beneath his hands in what he hoped was a clear message to repeat the action. Breathing around Dimitri’s girth was becoming difficult, but Claude didn’t care. His mind was racing with fantasies he’d only ever thought about behind closed doors: Dimitri using him for his own pleasure, Dimitri spilling down his throat and holding him still so he could only accept what he’d been given, Dimitri using that brute strength of his to put Claude exactly where he wanted him. 

Claude groaned. His mind had always been his sharpest weapon and this was no different. He was glad his own uniform pants were so loose. 

That was the rhythm they fell into as Dimitri’s groans became nothing but heavy breathing. He tightened his grip to make Claude moan and rocked his hips against him without holding back. If Claude had been thinking more clearly he’d have been elated to see Dimitri let loose but his world had narrowed to the heavy slide of Dimitri in his mouth and persistent ache between his own legs.

If they’d been more practiced Claude would have noticed the signs of Dimitri nearing his end. His movements were shakier, less purposeful, and the grip he had on Claude’s hair was turning into a searing sort of pain so laced with pleasure that Claude could only whine low in his throat and grip Dimitri’s skin. Before long, Dimitri was tensing and groaning as he filled Claude’s mouth with wet heat. Claude was relieved to discover that most of Dimitri’s release went right down his throat, though a small and traitorous part of him wanted the prince to mess him up a bit. Claude had to work to swallow the rest, anchored in place even as Dimitri caught his breath and softened in his mouth. 

Slowly, Dimitri released his hold on Claude’s hair, carding his fingers through the sweaty strands instead of gripping at them. Claude pulled himself off Dimitri so he could drop his forehead to his thighs. He shook a little as he caught his breath, hand dropping automatically to his lap. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for Claude to press the heel of his hand against himself and rub until he came, though mild regret quickly followed at the thought of trekking back to the monastery with such a mess in his pants. 

He barely noticed Dimitri dropping to the ground in front of him until the prince was grabbing him by the face and kissing him soundly. If Claude hadn’t just brought himself off he might have peaked from the filthy way Dimitri fucked his tongue into his mouth, bold and invasive and domineering. Claude groaned weakly, panting even as Dimitri pulled away and wiped the shine from his mouth with the back of his hand. 

They sat together in silence for a while, both catching their breath and grounding themselves. Dimitri tucked himself back in and straightened his uniform until he looked nearly unaffected by the last … few minutes? Hour? Claude felt like any frame of reference for how much time had passed had been thrown out the window. The sun was still up and they hadn’t been interrupted by worried classmates, so that was a plus. 

Eventually, once they were both somewhat decent, Dimitri broke the silence. He was looking at Claude with a softness to his expression that Claude was unused to, but when his gaze traveled upward he froze. “Oh…” 

“What?” His voice came out hoarse. 

“Your hair …” Dimitri’s expression twisted with shame. 

Claude reached up and felt around. He couldn’t tell much without a mirror, but it definitely felt like a damp mess. He was sure he looked like hell -- some strands sticking out in crazy angles, some curling from the moisture. He knew what he looked like when he used the steam room at the school, after all. 

“You look like you’ve been mauled,” Dimitri said. 

Claude couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. Dimitri huffed at his reaction, but when he turned his head to the side Claude could see a hint of flush at the tip of his ear. Dimitri cleared his throat and stood, brushing stray bits of grass and crushed leaves off his uniform. “We should catch up with the others. I’m sure if Dedue hasn’t begun to worry yet he will soon.” 

Claude hummed as he stretched his neck. He shifted around on the ground until he caught hold of the capelet attached to his uniform jacket and used it to wipe down his face. As he lowered the fabric he was greeted by Dimitri’s now-gauntleted hand in his face. He took it without hesitation and was pulled to his feet in a rush so quick it had him stumbling into Dimitri’s body. Dimitri took his weight easily, not even moving as Claude steadied himself against him. “Sorry--” Dimitri rushed to say, but Claude waved him off. 

They were silent again for a moment until Claude looked down at his dirtied jacket. “...Maybe I should just leave it here?” 

“Claude,” Dimitri chided. 

“What? I’m sure I can get another one.” 

Dimitri sighed and bent to fetch Claude’s jacket. He shook it out somewhat viciously, sending grass and leaves and dirt into the air, then brushed it off with a determined frown. When he deemed it as clean as it was going to get he folded it in half and draped it over Claude’s shoulder. “There.” 

Claude rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” 

“Ah … no.” Dimitri was suddenly flush again. “I should thank you, I think. That was …”

Claude moved so he could bump Dimitri’s hip with his own. It startled a noise out of Dimitri but Claude could think about how cute that was later. “Don’t thank me. That makes it seem like I was obligated.” 

“Weren’t you? You made that ridiculous bet …”

“I wasn’t obligated. I was …” Claude searched for a word, but ultimately, unusually, he settled for the truth. “I wanted to. And I’d like to again if you’re agreeable to the idea.” 

“Oh.” Dimitri blinked at him, but Claude thought he looked a little pleased. His next words were spoken carefully. “I … would be agreeable to the idea. Conditionally.” 

Claude laughed. “Okay?” 

“I’d prefer to keep any interactions of ours inside in the future.” 

“I can agree to that.” 

“And,” Dimitri said, turning so that he was in Claude’s space, head bent so that he spoke into his ear, “I’d like to see  _ you  _ fall apart next time.” 

For the first time, Claude felt a flush creeping up his own neck. He swallowed thickly. He was acutely aware of Dimitri’s hand on the small of his back, the cold metal seeping through his thin undershirt sparking unfairly heady reactions up his spine. Voice still hoarse, Claude said, “ _ Yes _ .” 

  
  



	2. Gronder Field; 1185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Claude couldn’t deny the thought of Dimitri sparked a host of feelings within himself. Though he hadn’t seen Dimitri since their school days, Claude still found himself wanting to reach out and tuck Dimitri’s hair behind his ear. He still found himself wanting to smile at Dimitri and offer him his heart, which was a dangerous line of thought. They were on opposite sides of this war despite having the same goal. 
> 
> But oh, Claude wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, and bookmarked. you're wonderful, and i'm terrible at responding to comments, but i'll try to get better at it.
> 
> added a canon divergence tag for reasons explained below. extended notes and other tag warnings in the end-notes;

Gronder Field was aflame. 

Claude watched from his refuge in the treeline as the fire burned and white smoke billowed toward the sky. Faerghus soldiers were combing the battlefield for any potential survivors. If they wore the colors of the Empire or the Alliance, Dimitri’s men ran their bodies through with blades to ensure death. It twisted Claude’s stomach to watch, but he thought someone had to if only to see what Dimitri’s soldiers would do next. Claude was confident they’d march straight to Enbarr but given how the rest of this battle had gone, Claude wasn’t so sure he wanted to rely on his confidence. 

Byleth had been on the battlefield. 

Claude hadn’t expected that. The Professor had been a menace during the fight. He’d stayed his blade from Alliance troops but the cold, efficient way he handled Imperial soldiers made Claude nervous. Byleth fought too flawlessly. He was too methodical, too perfect, too... Claude didn’t have the words for it. Byleth moved unlike anything Claude had seen before, and Claude had watched men dive through the sky in whorls of silk and wyverns’ wings as a child. 

Dimitri, too, was something Claude hadn’t expected. He’d held on to the hope that Dimitri would be the one leading the mysterious force Judith had received reports of, but the man Claude had seen on the battlefield wasn’t the boy he remembered. This new Dimitri was fierce and merciless, striking down Imperial forces with mighty swings of a pulsing lance and a roar that seemed more animal than human. He’d cut his way across the battlefield despite Byleth’s calls and nearly made it to Edelgard alone. He might have ended things there if not for the demonic beasts that had joined the fight and covered Edelgard’s retreat. 

When it had become clear the Kingdom would be winning the day, Claude had sent out the order for the Alliance forces to retreat. Hilda and Lorenz would lead the bulk of them back to Derdriu while others moved to take up defenses along the perimeter of Alliance territory. He didn’t think Edelgard would strike at the Alliance now that Dimitri had her retreating, but Claude wouldn’t bet the lives of his people that way. He’d already led enough of them to their deaths. 

Claude rubbed the hair along his jawline and sighed. He’d had hope that Dimitri would be willing to work with the Alliance for his goals. Claude had been counting on it, in fact. But it was clear that Dimitri was a changed man. He hadn’t attacked Claude when he’d gotten too close, but the way he’d looked at him, like Claude was less than an ant beneath his boot … It hurt more than Claude wanted to acknowledge. Whether or not Dimitri would work with them, there were still battles to be fought and internal squabbles to quell. Claude could lick his wounds when the war was over. 

Turning away from the field, Claude began to make his way back through the forest. It would be a bit of a hike to return to where he’d touched down on his wyvern, but he’d erred on the side of caution in case any of Dimitri’s soldiers were watching the sky. 

As Claude made his way through the overgrown forest--no yearly battles to keep nature from retaking the land these days--his mood began to sour. It was rare for a plan of his to fail so spectacularly, even with all the variables he’d planned for. He couldn’t afford another misstep like this. He needed to decide what to do next: to Derdriu, or to Enbarr? To retreat, or to gather his forces and come at Edelgard regardless of the Kingdom’s goal? 

Claude was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the snapping branches to his left. He moved out of instinct and he was luckier for it. A soldier, bloodied and bruised but very much alive, came crashing through the trees toward Claude. He wore Imperial colors and held a bloodied blade. The moment his eyes found Claude he raised the weapon high and shouted. Claude muttered a curse under his breath. He darted backward quickly, reaching for his bow and notching an arrow in less time than it took for the soldier to take another two steps.

Still, close combat was not Claude’s specialty. He did his best work at a distance, and so he was unsurprised when his arrow merely snapped against the soldier’s armor instead of sinking into his chest. Claude grit his teeth, fishing for another arrow. He was interrupted by the soldier belting out another battle cry and raising his blade overhead. Switching tactics, Claude moved to hold his bow with both hands, angling it so that the sword struck the reinforced center rather than Claude’s throat. He sent out a brief thanks to the gods that he’d decided to bring the second bow to battle. He would have been luckier to have Failnaught, but he’d left that in the safe hands of Nader as they’d retreated, not willing to risk having it on hand while he spied on the Kingdom. 

Though this bow was built for war, it was still the weaker of the two weapons. He could already feel it bending as the soldier leaned forward. Claude wasn’t sure if he’d have the speed to pull away in time to dodge the blade and get the bowstring around the man’s neck. He tightened his grip, eyes darting around for anything to use to his advantage. Was he quick enough to reach for the dagger hidden in his sash? Could he afford to take one hand off his bow for that long? 

In the time it took for Claude to weigh his options, his decision was made for him. First, he felt the pressure bearing down on him slacken. Second, a red-tipped blade had emerged from the soldier’s chest, splattering the front of Claude’s shirt with blood. He had grounded himself enough that he didn’t stumble, but he had to take a step back to avoid the soldier suddenly falling toward him in an unmoving heap. Claude recognized the glow of the blade intimately -- it was the writhing, burning color of a Heroes’ Relic. A long, black pole stuck out from the soldier’s back like a pike. 

Claude didn’t have to look to know who had entered the clearing, but he looked anyway. Dimitri stood across from the clearing. He was in the midst of straightening from what looked like a throw -- it would have had to be, Claude supposed, to have reached the soldier from that far away. He started forward without looking Claude’s way, and Claude moved as he did, sidestepping and backing away from Dimitri and the body until he’d backed himself up against a large tree. 

Dimitri took hold of his lance and pulled it out of the soldier with unnecessary force. He swung his lance in a great arc, shedding the blade of blood, before sinking it into the earth. Weapon reclaimed, Dimitri finally turned his head to look at Claude. His expression was hard to place, but the fact that his hand was still gripping his lance made Claude nervous. 

Still, now that Claude wasn’t surrounded by roaring flames and enemies, he took the chance to look Dimitri over. It had been a long five years and it didn’t seem that time had been all that kind to Dimitri. He stood well over Claude’s height, and he’d broadened out, but there was a patch covering his right eye. His left was still intact, but it was heavily shadowed, a deep crescent of sallow skin making him look untethered. His hair hung lank in his face, dampened with blood and sweat from the battle. His armor was dark and dented across the chest piece, his cloak dirty and crusted with grime where it touched the ground. 

Even so, Claude felt his heart beat just a little faster. 

There was a part of Claude that yearned to reach out and sink his fingers in Dimitri’s cloak, to draw him near and wrap his arms around him, to give him some comfort that he’d clearly been lacking. Unfortunately, Claude wasn’t in a position where he could act on the whims of his heart. Rationally, he knew that being found here by Dimitri wasn’t a good thing. It would have been best if Claude had been able to slip away unnoticed. Other than Edelgard’s head, which Dimitri had shouted for throughout the battle, Claude didn’t know what Dimitri wanted. If his goal was to crush the Alliance as well as the Empire, Dimitri had his best shot right here. 

But Dimitri didn’t lunge for him. He kept his hand on his weapon, looking Claude over with a faintly more interested air than he’d afforded the dead soldier. Claude watched him without comment. He noticed Dimitri’s eyes lingered upon certain things: his jaw, his left shoulder, his waist. He wondered what it was that caught Dimitri’s attention. 

Claude tightened his grip on his bow, the silence wearing at him. Dimitri took notice of the movement, eye narrowing as he stared at Claude’s hands. Dimitri pulled his lance up from the earth with a jerk of his arm. He strode toward Claude, his legs cutting the distance quickly. Claude hadn’t even raised his bow when Dimitri lashed out, striking the bow squarely and sending it flying from Claude’s hands. Claude watched it hit the ground a few paces away, but turning from Dimitri had been a mistake. When he looked back, Dimitri was standing before him.

As Dimitri loomed over him, Claude was acutely aware of two things. One; he still had the dagger he kept in the folds of his sash, as well as the one he kept hidden in his boot. Two; a lifetime ago, in this very forest, Dimitri had dropped to his knees to give Claude a deep kiss in place of all the things he’d wanted to say that he couldn’t find the words for. Somehow, Claude doubted he’d receive that same softness from Dimitri now. 

With Dimitri before him and the thick tree trunk behind him, there was nowhere for Claude to run. He had a rod on a chain around his neck that functioned as a whistle for his wyvern, but Claude didn’t think he’d get his hand around it before Dimitri wrapped his hand around his throat. Would Dimitri kill him? Claude didn’t know. He didn’t want to test it, either, but what else could he do, trapped as he was? 

Distraction was a well-loved tactic in Claude’s book. If followed by misdirection, Claude thought he might be able to make his escape. And yet, the words that came out of his mouth weren’t anything of the sort. “They said you were dead.” 

Dimitri didn’t seem particularly interested in Claude’s words. “Who?” he asked dispassionately. 

“Who didn’t?” Claude replied. “Empire spies. Alliance spies. Everyone said that  _ the Holy Cornelia _ had you publicly executed.” There were other rumors too. That there was no body because they’d burned Dimitri in the city square. That the prince had escaped the capital long before trial and fled across the sea. That Dimitri was being kept in a cell deep under Enbarr to be tortured at Edelgard’s leisure. For five years there had been no end to the rumors, right up until the Alliance had received word about the mysterious force marching under the Blaiddyd banner toward Gronder Field mere weeks ago.

Finally, Dimitri said, “I am not.”

“I’m glad,” Claude said. Dimitri narrowed his eyes and looked Claude over, likely searching out signs of insincerity. He wouldn’t find any. In this, Claude only had honestly to offer. 

A tense silence fell between them. It appeared Dimitri had no response to Claude’s candor. Whether he was taken aback or just didn’t care, Claude wasn’t sure. Eventually, Dimitri asked, “What were you hoping to accomplish here?” 

“At the battle?” Claude laughed sourly. “Would you believe that I hoped to bring the war to an end? A far-fetched plan, I know, but I had to try.” 

“This is not your war,” Dimitri said bitingly. “I will have the head of that  _ snake  _ who calls herself Emperor.  _ You  _ had best stay out of my way unless you want to share her fate.”

“Believe that if you want,” Claude said. “Edelgard’s actions affect more than just the Kingdom. I won’t stand by and do nothing.” 

“Then you will die.” 

Claude felt his heart beating in his throat, a hammering reminder that even if he was not rationally afraid of Dimitri, his base instincts had decided the man was a predator. “By your hand?” 

“Yes.” But Dimitri made no move to use his lance. He didn’t seem entirely focused, eye drawn to Claude each time he shifted his weight or took a breath. Claude remembered Dimitri’s eyes being a bright, vibrant blue, but the Dimitri before him had only the one, and its color was deeper, feathered into the black of his pupil. 

_ Oh _ . Claude realized what that meant abruptly. They’d both just come from battle, and it wasn’t unusual for the adrenaline to stick around long after. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Dimitri was turned on, but there was certainly a part of him that hoped he’d been the cause and not the massacre of Imperial troops that had excited the king. Or, gods forbid, the idea of skewering Claude with his Heroes’ Relic. 

And Claude couldn’t deny the thought of Dimitri sparked a host of feelings within himself. Though he hadn’t seen Dimitri since their school days, Claude still found himself wanting to reach out and tuck Dimitri’s hair behind his ear. He still found himself wanting to smile at Dimitri and offer him his heart, which was a dangerous line of thought. They were on opposite sides of this war despite having the same goal. 

But  _ oh _ , Claude  _ wanted _ . 

Dimitri seemed to sense the change in Claude, for he took a step closer, leaving Claude no room at all to move. He was stuck now, back against the tree and the rest of him only a breath away from the king who had leaned down to speak at Claude’s level. “I should kill you,” Dimitri said, voice low and rumbled through his chest, “before you concoct one of your schemes and take my life.” 

“I don’t want to kill you,” Claude said. He held Dimitri’s gaze even as his breath began to shorten. “And, to be honest, I’d rather you didn’t kill me.” 

“Perhaps you should beg me,” Dimitri said, tone almost casual. “Or make your case.” 

Claude swallowed. There was a small part of his brain screaming:  _ is this about to happen?, are we doing this?, what if I’m reading him wrong and he’s about to behead me? _ , but most of Claude’s logical thought had dissolved into the murky haze of anticipation. Hedgingly, he said, “You can’t use me if I’m dead.”

“Is that so?” Dimitri asked. He was close enough now that his breath fanned out hot against Claude’s mouth.

_ Fuck it. _ It was a risk -- a risk Claude might even pay for with his life -- but he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t take it. 

Boldly, Claude reached out to sink his fingers into the fur of Dimitri’s cloak. He pulled Dimitri the rest of the way down, a faraway voice in his mind reminding Claude that the man wouldn’t be moved if he didn’t want to be, and turned his head so that Dimitri’s nose nudged alongside his own. 

He heard Dimitri make a noise -- something between a huff and a sigh -- before he turned his head to meet Claude with surprising softness. Warmth spread through Claude’s chest. Of the reactions Dimitri could have had, this was the ideal one. His lips were dry against Claude’s, but that didn’t stop him from pressing a series of kisses across Claude’s mouth. He didn’t move to deepen any of them, seeming satisfied for the moment with simply having his mouth on Claude’s skin.

Claude felt a curl of excitement in his gut. This was so far from the right time to be doing something like this, so far from the right location, but Claude found all at once that he didn’t care. With his eyes closed, Claude could almost imagine they were somewhere else. He could imagine Dimitri wasn’t on the other side of this war. He could imagine there wasn’t smoke heavy in the air. He could imagine the two of them laughing together as they fumbled through an intimacy they were unfamiliar with. 

The images faded as Dimitri moved closer to him, pushing Claude squarely against the tree. Despite their circumstances, having Dimitri here now wasn’t something Claude wanted to will away. When Dimitri bent to kiss him again, Claude slid his arm around Dimitri’s shoulder, fingers brushing through the hair that fell across his nape. He felt Dimitri tense against him at the touch, and for a moment Claude wondered if he should back away, but Dimitri simply got an arm around his waist and pulled, anchoring Claude to his chest. 

They kissed again. Claude could feel Dimitri’s free hand wandering down his side, even through the padded armor he wore. He heard the delicate tinkling of the decorative discs hanging from the end of his sash as Dimitri’s hand brushed against the fabric. He felt the press of Dimitri’s tongue against his mouth as he fisted the material of Claude’s sash and pulled. Claude wasn’t sure if Dimitri’s aim was to get the sash undone, but it wouldn’t come apart that easily, especially considering--

“Wait--” Claude managed to extract himself from Dimitri’s hold long enough to fish one of his hands between the layers at his waist. He retrieved the dagger from his sash and dropped it to the side so that it wouldn’t be too far out of reach to retrieve later. He didn’t think that would have been a surprise Dimitri would have liked to find. Though, given the way Dimitri was studying him, Claude thought he was mildly impressed. 

Dimitri ducked down again, speaking this time between deep, wet kisses. “Planning to bury it in my throat?” 

Claude managed a gasp of breath between Dimitri’s consumption. “I wouldn’t--.” 

Darkly, Dimitri said, “Perhaps you should.” For a moment his expression darkened as well, but then he snagged his fingers in Claude’s cravat and pulled him close enough to kiss again. He pushed his tongue past Claude’s lips, dragging it along Claude’s own in a filthy move that erased all thought from Claude’s mind. 

They continued to kiss as their hands began to wander. Claude felt, personally, that it was an unfair exchange. Each time he tried to sneak his fingers beneath Dimitri’s cloak, Dimitri would shift or move back so that Claude’s grip slipped down to his arms. If Dimitri had some sort of aversion to being explored, he didn’t apply the same standards to Claude. He gripped Claude’s waist in one hand, bending so that his other could grip the back of Claude’s thigh just under the curve of his backside. Claude was relieved Dimitri wasn't immune to the heat building between them but he wasn’t sure how much farther they’d progress if Dimitri didn’t want to be touched. 

“Dimitri--”

Dimitri grunted, dropping his mouth down the side of Claude’s jaw. Claude shivered at the hint of teeth upon his skin. 

“I need to--”

Dimitri kissed him again, nibbling at Claude’s bottom lip. In comparison to the others, this kiss was almost lazy in its pace, kind of playful even. When Dimitri pulled away, his expression had lost the severe frown of before, but he wasn’t smiling either. There was a dark look in his eye that Claude could only describe as hungry. He imagined that was mirrored in his own. 

“I want--”

“Kneel.” 

Dimitri’s simple command sent a frisson of heat down his spine. Claude had always prided himself on his rebellious nature. Though he thought of himself as a trickster, the core of it was that Claude felt suffocated by authority -- the way they controlled how people felt, the way they demanded the blind obedience, and the way they dealt out merciless punishment to those who dared to think differently. Even so, Claude found himself wanting to obey Dimitri’s order without question. 

Claude decided it was best to worry about that urge another time. At least for the moment, his interests and Dimitri were firmly aligned. He sunk to his knees. 

He didn’t try to help Dimitri out of his armor. He wasn’t sure help would be appreciated. He didn’t know what Dimitri had gone through these last five years, but he moved like he distrusted even the ground to stay beneath his feet where it belonged. In the end, Dimitri didn’t take much off anyway. Claude had only looked away to loosen the sash around his waist and unlace the strings of his pants, and by the time he’d looked back up Dimitri had bared his arousal to the air. Most of his armor and his heavy cloak remained in place.

Height wasn’t the only advantage Dimitri had gained over the years. Claude hadn’t remembered Dimitri being quite this big. His cock was still curved upward, still pale and smooth and flushed red, but it was longer and wider than it was in Claude’s memories. Claude only stared for a moment before he stuck the tip of his finger in his own mouth to bite down, pulling off his glove with his teeth. He reached out to grip the base of Dimitri’s cock firmly and heard the king hiss out air above him. 

A shiver raced down Claude’s spine as he felt Dimitri’s fingers through his hair. He should have been worried -- those sharp metal claws so close to his scalp -- but all his shivering was purely from excitement. He was unprepared for Dimitri’s to snag his fingers through the strands and pull, forcing Claude’s head back at an uncomfortable angle so their eyes could meet. 

“That’s right,” Dimitri mused, more to himself than to Claude. “You enjoy this sort of thing.” 

Somehow, in spite of everything, that was what brought a flush to Claude’s cheeks. 

Keeping his grip tight, Dimitri brought his other hand to Claude’s chin, taking hold of it and pressing the sharp tips of his gauntlet to Claude’s skin. He didn’t push, didn’t break skin, but the hint of danger spiked a concerningly strong rush of arousal deep in Claude’s stomach. When Dimitri pushed his thumb flat against Claude’s bottom lip, Claude’s breath left him in a rush. Dimitri took advantage of the reaction, sliding his thumb into Claude’s mouth and settling it firmly upon his tongue. 

Even Dimitri’s thumb was covered in the pointed steel plates, but it seemed the gauntlets had been designed with mobility in mind. This claw wasn’t as sharp as the ones in Claude’s hair, and the underside of Dimitri’s thumb was only covered by fabric. Claude could taste the sharp bite of steel and the hint of earthy leather. He could feel the needle-point of Dimitri’s gauntlet against his tongue, too, but Dimitri seemed skilled enough with them that he wouldn’t hurt Claude unless he meant to. 

Or was asked. 

_ Mm _ . That was another thought to worry about on another day. 

Claude made a soft sound as Dimitri rubbed his thumb in slow circles. “Is this all it takes to silence that silver tongue of yours?” Claude felt a rare curl of embarrassment thread through his arousal. He grunted as Dimitri pushed his thumb further back, not a sound of agreement but not truly a protest. He kept the hand that was on Dimitri in place, but his other drifted down to his lap. Dimitri followed his movement with a blown-out gaze. He didn’t tell Claude to stop. 

Faintly, Claude heard Dimitri made a heady noise deep in his chest, fingers flexing in his hair. Feeling encouraged, Claude began to rub himself through his pants, Dimitri dragged his thumb back and forth across his tongue like it was his cock instead. Claude was sure he looked a mess: breath short, cheeks red, chin shining with his own drool. Around them, the sounds of the forest had faded, replaced by the wet slide of Dimitri’s thumb and the grunts and moans Claude couldn’t stifle. 

When Dimitri finally pulled his thumb away, Claude tried to lean forward to follow, but Dimitri’s hold kept him firmly in place. He stared up with half-lidded eyes, breath hitching as he continued to rub himself through his pants. He barely noticed Dimitri shifting his weight until suddenly there was something cold and hard pressing down against his hand. 

Claude swallowed heavily. He didn’t have to look down to know Dimitri’s boot was shifting his hand out of the way, pressing down against his arousal with enough pressure to pull a heated whine from Claude’s throat. “This too?” Dimitri asked, voice barely more than a growl. 

“ _ Dimi-- _ ” Dimitri pressed down again before Claude could finish. Dimitri’s grip loosened, allowing Claude to drop his head and groan. Blindly, Claude rocked his hips forward, rubbing himself against Dimitri’s boot. Dimitri permitted this for a moment, but soon enough he was pulling Claude’s head back by his hair again and removing his foot from Claude’s lap. 

“What was it you said all those years ago?” Dimitri mused, using his leverage on Claude to guide him closer. It appeared Claude hadn’t been the only one enjoying the lewd treatment -- Dimitri’s cock was flushed red, a bead of precum pearling at the tip and spilling down the side. “To the victor belong the spoils?” 

Claude felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. He looked up at Dimitri through his lashes, suddenly dry-mouthed from the king’s words. And yet, Claude’s desire hadn’t dimmed. War had changed him indeed.

Determined not to let Dimitri see him unbalanced, Claude shoved those complicated feelings to the back of his mind. “No,” he managed. “That’s not what I said.” 

“No?”

“I  _ said-- _ ” Claude met Dimitri’s stare. “I said: to the victor goes the spoils …  _ your highness _ .” 

If Claude hadn’t been watching so closely he would have missed how quickly Dimitri’s eye widened. His fingers flexed again, cock twitching. Claude ran his tongue across his lips, grinning despite himself. He lowered his head without prompting, and Dimitri let him.

Claude closed his lips around the head of Dimitri’s cock, running his tongue along the slit to collect the initial slick that had gathered there and swallow it down. He teased the head with his tongue, first tracing around in mindless patterns, then pressing flat against the underside. Dimitri shuddered beneath his hands. Quietly, he sighed, “ _ Claude _ .” 

Groaning -- it was entirely unfair for his name to sound like that -- Claude began to move his head in a slow rhythm, taking in a little more each time he sunk back down. It was easy to lose himself in the motions, easy to let his eyes close and move on sensation alone. Dimitri was hot and heavy in his mouth, and every slide forward was slicker than the one before. It wasn’t long before Dimitri was rocking his hips forward, pushing further into Claude’s mouth than expected. Claude could nearly feel him in the back of his throat. 

He hadn’t realized that Dimitri had released him until he felt the metallic claws trace back across his scalp. This time, Dimitri gripped the hair toward the back of his head. He didn’t pull. Instead, he used his handhold to guide Claude forward as he rocked his hips, all but burying himself to the hilt in Claude’s throat. Claude shifted his grip to anchor himself on Dimitri’s thighs, blunt fingers digging into the firm muscle underneath. He didn’t gag, breathing shortly through his nose as saliva welled up in his mouth the deeper Dimitri pushed into him. 

Things seemed to fade as Dimitri thrust in and out of his mouth. The slight ache in his jaw was overtaken by the spine-tingling feeling of Dimitri’s cockhead brushing the back of his throat. His breath was coming up shorter and shorter, a combination of his own excitement and his lack of air. He wasn’t sure how long it went on. He was only truly aware of the weight in his throat, the slick slide as Dimitri moved faster and, eventually, began to falter. 

With little warning, Dimitri tightened his grip in Claude’s hair to hold him in place. He spilled himself down Claude’s throat with a quiet groan, the muscles beneath Claude’s fingers tensing and relaxing as he rode out his orgasm. Claude heard himself moan, but it felt like the world had slipped away around him, leaving only white noise between his ears. He felt Dimitri fill his mouth with warm release, felt the way his throat worked around Dimitri’s cock as he attempted to swallow it all down, felt himself continue to suckle even as Dimitri’s cock went soft under his tongue. Nothing else felt real.

Eventually, Dimitri slipped out of Claude’s mouth and released his grip on his hair. Claude coughed wetly at the change of pressure in his throat, dropping his head to catch his breath. His mouth was still filled with the bitter aftertaste of Dimitri’s release, and though it was an impossible thought, Claude imagined he could feel it pooling deep in his stomach. 

“Claude.” Dimitri’s tone, despite being hoarse, was demanding. Claude wet his swollen lips and lifted his head. Dimitri’s eye was entirely dark, staring down at Claude with hyper-focused intensity. “Touch yourself.” 

Claude’s breath came out as a hiss between his teeth. Eager to comply, Claude shifted so he could go for the laces of his pants. He saw a dark blue of motion in his periphery before Dimitri’s boot was pressing firm against his hands, a clear order to stop. Claude looked back up, a question on his lips, but Dimitri answered before he could ask. 

“Like this,” Dimitri said. 

Like this? Claude wasn’t following. His mind was too scrambled to understand Dimitri’s vague instructions. He pushed Dimitri’s foot away but he didn’t draw his hand back, keeping it around the ankle of Dimitri’s boot instead. He pressed his other hand over his arousal, rubbing himself off through his pants. This time, Dimitri didn’t try to stop him. 

It didn’t take long for Claude to feel himself getting close. His fingers twitched around Dimitri’s ankle, slipping a little on the metal plating, and before long he was making a mess of his pants with a soft moan. 

All at once, every part of Claude wanted to flop back against the forest floor and rest. Even in his hazy state, Claude knew that wasn’t possible. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree instead, catching his breath as his rational thought began to return to him. By the time Claude had composed himself, Dimitri was already tucked back in and fully armored, lance in hand.

Claude watched him with half-lidded eyes. His gaze wasn’t about seduction this time; he was simply too tired to put up a front. 

Dimitri stared down at him, conflicting emotions passing across his face. Eventually, he said, “You have a wyvern nearby.” 

It wasn’t exactly a question, but Claude nodded. 

“Go.”

Claude’s dry laugh bubbled out of him without permission. “Not happening.” Not without another few moments’ rest. 

“We are at war.” 

“Yeah.” Claude let his head drop back against the tree. “I noticed.” 

“If we should cross paths again …” Dimitri trailed off, fingers gripping the pole of his lance hard enough to make it creak, “...do not attempt to seek me out.” 

Claude wanted to laugh. If wasn’t like he’d attempted to do that this time. It had been his own luck that Dimitri had stayed behind after the battle. Whether it had been good luck or bad, well … Claude supposed he’d learn that in the coming days. 

Slowly, Dimitri added, “If we meet again, I will not let you go.” 

Claude sighed. “Gonna kill me then, too?” 

“No,” Dimitri said. “But I won’t let you go.” 

Claude met Dimitri’s gaze. Before he could think of something, anything, to say, Dimitri was turning on his heel and stalking away. He strode back the way he’d come and was soon out sight. Claude let out the breath he’d been holding and looked up at the sky. In a moment, he’d get up and dust himself off. He’d find his wyvern and fly back to Derdriu to regroup with the rest of the Alliance forces. He’d make plans and think of a way to win this war. 

But in  _ this  _ moment? There was only one thought in Claude’s head, and it was a dangerous one. 

Whispering to himself, Claude said, “Until we meet, then.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
.  
.  
or succy the cucky 2, electric boogaloo;
> 
> frankly, i didn't know rodrigue died at gronder bc i haven't played the blue lions route through the timeskip yet. hence the new 'canon divergence' tag. let's all pretend he's not dead for the sake of lewds, okay? 
> 
> tbh i feel like part 1 was better constructed, but by the time i wanted to cut out the soldier attacking claude i'd already written all the paragraphs with him in it, so it's just ... gonna be like that now ... forever ... 
> 
> on a more serious note, i added the 'mildly dubious consent' tag due to the nature of dimitri's personality, claude's thoughts, and some of the things dimitri says throughout their encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> .  
.  
.  
the working name for this fic was "succy the cuccky"


End file.
